


My Monster Boyfriend

by Sour_Girl



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Blutbad, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Interspecies Relationship(s), Sexual Harassment, human reader, oof chpt 3 escalated this entire fic, veeeery light tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-10-11 00:53:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17436764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sour_Girl/pseuds/Sour_Girl
Summary: You are a freelance editor with a wanderer's spirit and a book collector's heart. Monroe is just a quiet, bookish Blutbad who's friends with a Grimm. When your search for the perfect place to settle down takes you to the small, mysterious town of Portland Oregon, you find soon enough that there's far more strange things going on then old superstitions and legends.But more importantly, that some legends might just be true...





	1. Chapter 1

The small shop bell chimed brightly as you pushed open the heavy glass door to your favorite used book store. 

Your wandering spirit had dragged you all over the country for the past few years, searching for a place that felt like home. Sure, there were a few states and cities that stuck out, but none felt quite like Portland. The reasoning was hard to define, old and powerful, but comforting too like enchanting stories from old folk tales or history books.

Freshly brewed coffee infused with yellowing book pages wafted through the quiet surroundings as you went to check in on your favorite fiction rack for new, old books. You really should stop coming by, or at least limit your visits to maybe once a month, you told yourself. As something of a book connoisseur, you were amassing quiet a library of genres and time periods so far flung apart, a few of your friends joked you might be approaching a new record.

You turned the corner to enter the shelf stack, and found a tall, grown man occupying your usual spot. At first glance, he was rather intimidating with his large frame and narrow eyes, but these traits seemed sufficiently offset by his otherwise kind face, well groomed hair, and bookish attire. That aside, this all wouldn’t have bothered you much except that, upon closer inspection, he was fixing a rather thick book of assorted modern fairytales with a look that was somewhere between condescending and disgusted. 

“Anything good?”, you leaned in, just close enough to not disturb his personal space, and tried to smile politely.

He started, and snapped the book closed before collecting himself. “Ah uh, you know- … No, not really”, He scratched his scruffy, short beard and turned the book over, pretending to be merely examining it. Accidently, he flashed you its cover, caught himself, and shelved it quickly as though embarrassed.

Feeling a little bad for inadvertently guilting him away from the brightly colored story book, you tried to relate and ease the tension, “You know, if you like those you should read the originals. Ever heard of the-”

“Brothers Grimm?”, He cut you off, looking about as pleasantly surprised as you were. “I have, actually. Those are the _real_ ones, you know”

You smiled brightly at his commentary. Portland was great and all, but it was just about impossible to find anyone else who was as into folklore and mythos as yourself. Well, until now… 

Typically, you weren’t one for chatting up strangers, at least outside of clubs and bars, but there was something about this one that spoke to you. Maybe it was that cable knit sweater get up or his quiet and reserved mannerisms, but talking with him was like speaking with a sliver of the very spirit itself of this old and sleepy town.

After such a successful ice breaking, the two of you entertained an excited back and forth over mostly books, but a few other things too. You introduced yourself after a few sentences, and he was Monroe. You liked his sweater, and he liked your… Shampoo? You wondered briefly if you had used too much or if it was overpowering since this man could apparently smell it well enough to comment on it, but decided for now to laugh politely and accept the strange compliment. 

To his credit, he _did_ try to back pedal from the bizarre remark, but settled instead for a self aware joke on his own awkwardness.

The two of you continued on like this for a little longer, and you learned all sorts of interesting things about him. He played the cello, repaired clocks, had some degree of interest in trains, ate vegan and, though you indirectly gathered this yourself, lived alone. You found it hard to believe someone who seemed so sweet and mild mannered didn’t appear to be seeing anyone, but you pushed the thoughts out of your mind. After all, just because _you_ found being alone to be lonely, didn’t mean everyone felt the same.

Monroe glanced down at his antique watch, flicked it away, then looked back again in earnest as though he couldn’t believe his eyes. “ _Wow_ it’s late! Sorry, I uh didn’t mean to bend your ears”

“Oh, it’s no trouble, really!”

“Well thanks for saying so at least, but hey this was... _nice._ See you around maybe?”, Monroe backed out of the aisle, offering a subtle wave and a genuine smile as you nodded back hopefully.

After he’d left, you checked your phone for the time and came away with your own look of disbelief. Had you really been talking for a whole _hour?_ You put away the device, suddenly feeling very drained. Not even the completely unsearched bookshelf could give you a boost. You sighed and went to order the first caffeine infused drink you saw from the tiny, in store cafe before making your way home otherwise empty handed. However, bookless as you were, that wasn’t to say this trip was a _complete_ waste.

You sipped our drink as you walked along, snippets of your conversation with Monroe streaming in and out of your mind. A smile graced your lips, as your thoughts took off on some silly day dreams involving escapades between yourself and this man you’d just met. You knew you got attached to things far too easily, but in this case, could you really blame yourself? What could you say, you liked unique things and his Monroe guy was attractive in the way that he was just so… _different._ For God’s sake, he plays the cello and repairs _clocks_. How many men did you know, that weren’t over the age of Fifty, could say the same?

Besides, what wasn’t to like? Even as far as physical appearance, you’d definitely seen worse. He was a little wild looking with his scraggly beard and small, dark eyes, but hey he was also tall and of balanced body proportions, even if he had a slight case of pre-dad bod. But honestly, if _that_ was his worst trait, you figured you could survive.

These thoughts and more completely devoured your perception in reel after reel of blissful day dreams until you found yourself deposited on your doorstep. Somewhere along the way you’d lost your assumedly empty drink, and used both hands to fish for your house key. You came up with it soon enough and delved into the humble abode. You hadn’t been here long but the house was small enough to be reasonably comfortable. However, your favorite part had to be the spare room upstairs, which you converted into your own personal library with book cases covering every inch of one wall as well as some comfortable furniture to read it all in.

You made some food and then settled in with your laptop, finishing up some work. As a freelance editor, and a damn good one at that, you could go where you pleased and the income was reasonable and steady. All you really were looking for was a nice, atmospheric place to settle down in, and Portland was _it._

After typing away for a few minutes, you sighed and leaned back into your seat. Try as you might, you just couldn’t get Monroe out of your mind. You didn’t want to get your hopes up, but this seemed like a small enough town… Who knows, maybe, just maybe, things could go your way.

\---

It had been a few days since you’d seen the mysterious, scruffy man, not even the bookstore you met at brought any luck. Unfortunately, you hadn’t had the chance to make many friends yet and were lacking for socialization, but there was always one place for the lonely and the broken…

You weren’t sure what came over you, but later that day you found yourself exploring the local bar. There wasn’t too much excitement going on at first as you sat amongst more than your usual allowance of empty glasses. That is, until the night crowd came in. A small group of rough looking men shouldered their way up to the bar, already looking a little buzzed, and then ordering some strong stuff on top of it. You managed to retain enough common sense to scoot your stool away from them, but it seemed to have quite the opposite result you were aiming for.

“Wo- _hoah!_ Where are _you_ goin’?”, the one closest shoved his way towards you until you could smell the stale alcohol on his breath. He draped a muscular arm over your shoulders and brought his head down to whisper in your ear, yellowed teeth and hot breath grazing the sensitive cartilage, “What’s a pretty little thing like you doing here alone?”

You nearly fell off your chair trying to get away. “You’re _drunk_ ”, you slurred back.

“Aw come on… We can still have _fun_ ”, the disgusting man lunged forward, grabbing onto the front of your shirt. By now the two of you had caused quite a scene with the sight and sound of your desperate protests only drawing a larger crowd. The heat of the room and the intoxicating buzz of the alcohol blurred the next few moments together, covering everything in a haze. Someone, another man you thought, whipped your assailant around, delivering a solid, bone crunching punch to his jaw. After that one little instance, all hell broke loose. Sides were taken, the thuggish, drunken men versus those who were either just looking for a fight, or simply meant well.

Grateful as you were, you could hardly bring yourself to stick around. As best as your slightly drunken body would allow, you slunk out of the bar amidst the chaos and ran off down a maze of sidewalks. It didn’t matter to you where you were going just now, as long as you got as far away from that mess as you could. _So much for socializing._

You slowed to a walk, tired from running blindly, then to a stop as you tried to get your bearings. You weren’t sure you recognized this street, but then again it was the middle of the night. Shaking your head, you walked on a few more blocks until you saw a wooded park across the way. _Say, didn’t you live near a park like that?_ Of course the answer was yes, meaning that the next course of action would be to follow the trail on through and make your way home from there. The full moon shone brightly overhead, and you were filled with just enough liquid courage and drunken stupidity to go through with such a fool's errand.

Sure enough, the moon illuminated the marked trail for you well as you forged on ahead. You yawned, the booze and plain exhaustion catching up to you. At first it was just a small one. Then another. Then again, this time longer. Then once you finally had a moment to refocus… The path was gone. You searched around frantically, panic rising in your throat, as you forced yourself ahead, pushing aside branches and leaves in the darkness. After a few moments of wandering you heard twigs snapping behind you, sending your delicate panic into a fully-fledged frenzy, as you began barrelling through the foliage. 

Last time you checked, there were only a few small creatures such as squirrels and deer, maybe the occasional coyote, in this park, but whatever this was it was _big._ And it was gaining quickly. Branches slapped and scratched against your face until you were almost running completely blind, eyes shut, praying that somehow you would be able to lose whatever it was that was after you. 

Up ahead in the darkness was a bridge over a small drop to a stream that you couldn't see. You kept running closer, closer, closer until... A powerful hand, much larger than your own, grabbed you firmly by the arm and yanked you back safely away from the ledge, mere moments before you plummeted over. 

“Hey hey hey, you're alright”, Monroe turned you over in his arms, only to find that you had fallen unconscious, the mixture of alcohol and fear having proven to be too much. He did a brief check to make sure you were all right otherwise, looked around, and then pick you up easily, carrying you back towards the trail. He didn't know where you lived, but he certainly couldn't leave you out here, and with that he decided to take you back to his house, just a short walk away. 

\---

Monroe set you down on the couch for a minute, then took a few steps back to decide what he should do. He took a step forward. Maybe he could find some info on where you lived in your wallet? Suddenly you jerked, tossing in your sleep. He stepped back again. Maybe he should just let you rest…

He looked around for some kind of blanket to throw over you, but found none. Monroe sighed through his nose, looked around quickly this time, as if it were at all possible someone might be watching, and then pulled off his sweater, one of the several he owned, and gave you that instead. Soon after, you began to settle and the Blutbad scratched at his undershirt clad chest before heading off to retrieve a beer from the fridge. By the time he’d gotten to the bar, the drama between you and the small gang had reached the tipping point, and he was dragged into the fight, meaning he’d never gotten his drink. 

Taking a seat at his desk, Monroe sipped at his beer and started working on his latest clock project. _Coyotl._ He almost didn’t believe his eyes when he saw those three in their matching biker outfits, riling up the crowd. Then when he realised it was _you_ they were after… 

Honestly, you were the first one he saw when he got there. He’d begun formulating a plan and everything; walk over, a little ‘hey, how’ve you been’, buy you a drink, see where it goes… Only for everything to be ruined by those three. Maybe it was the influence off of the pack. Maybe it was the fact that they were messing with someone that he kinda, sorta had a thing for, but in that moment he just felt so _angry._ He just couldn’t explain it, everything just happened too fast. 

There was a whole hell of a lot of shouting, you, the small pack harassing you, a bar fight, then the pack woged, he woged, and by then it was far, far too late. A couple punches thrown and bottles smashed in the blindingly smoke saturated bar latter, and the pack was in the process of being driven off. It wasn’t until then that he had even realised you were gone. More than a little worried, he set out to track you down and well… There you were and now here you are. In his house. On his couch.

Monroe shook his head to clear the thoughts. He looked out to the living room once, then twice, then sighed as he put down his tools. He promised himself he’d just check on you this once, then he really needed to get back to work. It was bad enough you’d been occupying his mind ever since the bookstore, now here you were in the flesh and if anything, that only seemed to make it _harder_ to focus.

After a quick, quiet walk across the hall, Monroe tenitavely leaned over just enough to catch a peek at your sleeping form. You had since abandoned your restless sleep, and were now snoozing peacefully, a relaxed smile on your face and his shirt cuddled up to your jawline. The contagious bliss of the scene made its way to the Blutbad as he took it in. He looked to his sweater that you seemed to be so enjoying, and then to the sliver of empty space between your body and the back of the couch. It was sort of a tight squeeze for the big man, and oh, he would’ve loved to, but… Well, he didn’t even know if you felt that way. 

Maybe he should just get back to work.

Before he’d hardly even taken a step away, a harsh banging rapped against Monroe’s door. The Blutbad huffed, then stormed over to answer. He cracked the door open gruffly, unsurprised to find Detective Burkhardt on the other side.

“Hey, we got a case, could yo-”, Nick spoke loud and clear as usual, completely unaware of the situation you were in just a room away.

Monroe made a wide eyed face, implying he was to be taken seriously, as he shushed the other man frantically. Nick froze for a moment as he tried to read exactly _how_ serious whatever the issue seemed to be was, then fell completely to confusion as his wesen friend pushed him gently yet firmly a few paces back to allow for them both to speak privately on the porch.

The door was gingerly shut with a quiet click, “Hey man, could you keep it down? Now _really_ isn’t a good time for Grimm stuff, ok?” Monroe offered a tight smile and half hearted salute, before reaching back for the door knob.

“Well _hold on_ ”, Nick dropped his voice to an appropriate whisper after receiving another unappreciative look, “Is something going on here? If something’s wrong, maybe I can help”

It wasn’t that there was any _major_ problems per say, just not something that required a Grimm. Or Nick. Or really, any other guy that wasn’t himself. Tired of waiting for an answer, Nick decided to act for himself. the Grimm lurched to the side, trying to get around Monroe and to the door only to have the other man block his path step for step. The two froze, locked in a stare off.

“Did you just growl at me?”

“Look Nick, I told you just leave it, okay? Just _trust me,_ alright?” 

“You know what, fine. You want to keep your secrets, keep them, but I could really really use your help right now. Whatever it is, are you sure you can't walk away for just a few hours?”

Monroe sighed growing frustrated, then leaned in, dropping his voice to a whisper, “Okay, you want to know so bad? Fine. I have… company, right now”. He leaned even closer, “ _Female_ company”

After the revelation, both men pulled back, Nick wide-eyed and mouth agape and Monroe mocking Nick’s look of realization. The detective dropped his voice, sounding worried for a moment, “ _Another_ Blutbad?”

Monroe cocked his head to the side, making a face, “Wow, speciesist much? Anyway, not that it’s any of your business, but no, no she’s not”

Nick nodded closing his mouth in a tight-lipped smile, “Well I mean, hey that's great, but are you sure she's not sleeping or something? I'm serious, just two hours and you'll be right back!”

Monroe sighed again, this time exasperated, “You're not going to let this go are you?” 

Nick smiled, relieved, “Thank God. I promise, just a few hou-”

“Yeah... The thing is, that wasn’t me agreeing”, Monroe turned the door knob, cracking it open just enough to slide inside, “I think Portland can survive one more night without us”, he added snidely, slipping into his house and closing the door firmly behind him, all before Nick could react. He could hear the Grimm’s irritated sigh from the other side, followed a moment or two later by the sound of receding footsteps. Truth be told, he felt a little bad for turning down his friend so harshly, but Nick had been at this for a little while now, surely he could handle whatever it was that was going on.

Monroe looked back wistfully in your direction, then back to his desk. This was going to be a long night.

\---

You awoke with a start the next morning, sitting bolt upright. You looked around frantically, uncertain of your surroundings and short on details from last night. Oh God. Had you been… You looked down to see that your clothes appeared to be untampered with, albeit strangely smattered with dirt. Left now with plain confusion, your slightly clearer mind was able to register the sound of gentle snoring somewhere nearby. You looked up and ahead, to see a large figure seated on the floor and draped onto the couch cusion as he slept.

It was… _him!_ You sighed with relief, and relaxed a little before even more questions permeated your thoughts. Sure, you wanted to see him again, but you had to admit, this was a little strange. Your hand ran over the makeshift blanket you had apparently been using and found it to be what appeared to be one of Monroe’s sweaters. _At least that explained why he was more or less shirtless._ As you shifted to get into a better sitting position, Monroe snorted abruptly, eyes snapping open.

The two of you locked eyes for a moment, as he was able to immediately catch your gaze from where he was sleeping. _Had he been watching you?_ He scrambled to sit upright, shot a quick glance to the area by your legs where he’d been sleeping, and then reconnected with your line of sight. “I know this looks weird”, he raised his arms defensively, “but I swear, I can explain-”

You didn’t believe him for a second, but that didn’t stop you from giving him a pass. Just this once... Blinking slowly, you rubbed your aching head, “Never mind that, do you know what happened last night?” You swung your legs off the couch to sit on it properly, resting against the back, head in your hands. 

Monroe hopped up, taking a seat an appropriate distance from you, before relating his version of the night before, while vetting out all the wesen related happenings. There was a bit of a sticky situation in the story as to how exactly he was able to find you so quickly in the middle of the woods in the dead of night, but luckily for him you were too groggy to push the topic too hard.

“Then I brought you here, and well, yeah”, Monroe scratched his beard and smiled warmly, “Here we are. So… Can I get you some coffee or something? Oh, are you hungry?” He leaned a touch forward, far too energetic for this early.

You weren’t quite recovered yet, but a bit of coffee and food _did_ sound like a good idea… “You know what? That would be great”

“Great!”, Monroe jumped up, “Just wait right here, and I’ll be back”

Before you could stop him, he turned around and went to get started. You were going to give him back his sweater, but apparently he didn’t want it _just_ yet, which was fine by you. Not that you would admit it aloud to this man you hardly knew, but you could get use to the view of him and his fairly impressive musculature in that old tank top. Besides, the scent of the garment drew you back to the very first time the two of you met; A sort of misty, musky smell that felt old and yet mysteriously enchanting in a way that you could only imagine the very soul of such a superstitious little town as this might smell like.

\---

Breakfast was up soon enough, and you found yourself pleasantly surprised at what an excellent cook the strange, scruffy man was. The two of you spent some time catching up, with your gratitude towards him and his hospitality sprinkled throughout, before finally finishing up. Not to break his good hospitality streak yet, Monroe cleared the dishes to be washed later, sat back down and finally asked the big question, “So uh, I guess I should take you home huh? Do you live near here?”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that!”, as grateful as you were for not only the offer, but also the opportunity to spend a little more time together, you didn’t want to impose any further. “It’s not that far from here. Realy, it’s more like walking distance”, you laughed it off, trying to sound sincere.

“Well that kinda sounds like all the more reason to go! Short morning walk and all… Besides”, he lightly clapped a hand to his stomach, accompanying the gesture with a disarming bark of laughter, “the exercise would be nice”

You smiled, as the infectious sound trailed off shortly after. Your resolve was terrible, but then again, it wasn’t as if you were twisting his arm. “Why not?”, you laughed lightly, as the two of you stood and made your way to and out the door. Before you really forgot, you paused on the poarch a moment and returned his sweater, which he graciously accepted and put back on. Once he was set, he offered you his arm as you steered him down the sidewalk jungle to your own humble home just a good few minutes away.

\---

Monroe brought you all the way up to your doorstep, letting you go to fish out your keys. You unlocked the door, took a step inside, then turned to thank him not quite ready to separate yet. “You know, it was great to see you again”

He chuckled, “Yeah, odd a reunion as it was”

“Maybe. But from the sound of it, I was pretty lucky you were there”

“Well if you ever need rescuing again, you know where to find me”, Monroe jerked his thumb over his shoulder, earning an amused laugh from you. 

“Oh, you _bet_ I will! This has been the best morning of mine in a long time”, you smiled and Monroe agreed that he felt the same. After a few quick beats you built up some courage and then added shyly, “I’d love to do this again sometime…”

Monroe smiled back, that same warm, disarming one you’d come to appreciate, “Yeah? Because, I mean, _I_ would too! Just, you know, maybe next time without the bar fighting and getting lost in the woods”. You laughed and agreed, while Monroe patted is pockets, before producing a tiny shred of paper along with a pen that had been clipped to his sweater. “You know what? Here…”, he scribbled something down in neat lettering before handing it off to you, “Call me sometime? This way you don’t have to rely on _dangerous situations_ to find me”

You took the paper gingerly, smile growing a little wider. “I would love to”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, you guys actually kinda like this fic. Figured, I should update.

Over the course of the next month or so, things between you and Monroe went more smoothly than you could have hoped for. Sure enough, you took him up on his offered number and the two of you had been seeing each other as often as your schedules could afford. Although you felt most of the hold ups to your plans were thanks to him…

It wasn’t long before you had a quite odd introduction to Monroe's friend, a Detective Nick Burkhardt. You weren’t sure what a Portland detective and a civilian were doing hanging out so frequently, especially during night hours, but you didn’t want to say or do anything that might damage your fledgling relationship just yet.

Despite your feelings about being put on hold for the Detective, all negative feelings seem to vanish when you were with him. Especially on the night the two of you spent your first real date together. Down in the very same Pub but you have been saved from, Monroe finally took you out for something more official than visiting one another and spending times in the comfort of your own places or at small cafes.

You grabbed a booth and Monroe asked for your order. You gave it and he's graciously approach the bar to order two drinks. Monroe slid you yours before sliding into the booth besides you, his own drink in hand. You thank him and he offered you a cheers and response. 

It's been awhile since you enjoyed yourself like this and the more into the conversation the two if you got the more excited you were to bolster the enjoyment with the alcohol on your hands. Before either of you realized, and certainly without either of you caring, the drinks began to run together just enough to get a buzz and then maybe a little too much as things slid into a drunken ecstasy.

The two of you sat leaning against one another in a happy haze, considering leaving sooner rather than later. You slid out of the booth together seemingly deciding that perhaps it was time to go, when the music changed and lights shifted again over on the dance floor. Nothing too special, except this time it caught your eyes. Neither of you were really the dancing sort, but this time the both of you had decidedly had enough alcohol to change your minds. You half led, half dragged Monroe over to the floor slurring words of encouragement to him as he put up a feeble resistance before getting an entirely. 

The two of you stepped together out on the floor, dancing badly but having a good time. The drink and the atmosphere closed in around you in a hazy, bright blur closing everything else out until the only thing you could focus on was one another. Monroe took your hand, gave you a spin, and then pulled you close, the two of you swaying in time and lost in one another.

You and Monroe carried on like that for a while, your mind blanked on the intermediate details, but the next thing you remembered was attempting to walk home on his arm. Monroe wasn’t as worse for wear as you were, but after a few long paces from the bar, you lost your grip and stumbled rather unceremoniously into a side alley. You fell to the cold brick with a gentle slap, laughing giddily as you tried, and failed, to pull yourself back up along the wall. Instead you stretched out our arms, and murmured a request for assistance that same smile still plastered on your face.

With a half hearted bark of laughter, Monroe easily pulled you to your feet and the momentum of the action brought you back into his chest. For a moment, he held you just like that, and quietly asked if you were alright. You looked up at him, a dreamy smile etched into your face. 

_Wasn’t he just so handsome? How did you end up with such a perfect guy?_

You pressed a slow, gentle kiss to his scruffy jawline, before pulling your lips away reluctantly. For just a moment, the drunken haze seemed to clear from the man’s face as he looked back at you agape with surprise. 

The moment lasted long enough to cause your drunken mind to wonder if that had been a mistake. You turned your face away, smile faltering. Just before you were about to suggest continuing home, Monroe found himself inspired by your courageous first move.

Just as gracefully as a choreographed dance move, Monroe turned the both of you in sweeping motion and held you close against the cool brick wall, enjoying the heat of your body. You looked into his eyes, equal parts surprised and excited, as he returned your gaze with a goofy smile. He cleared his throat, perhaps himself wondering if he should’ve done this, as you felt his powerful heart hammer underneath his sweater just before he leaned down, rushing into a kiss as though you were likely to disappear at any moment.

His lips were coarse and nearly missed yours, making a sloppy mess of your lipstick, but you could hardly care less. The first one was gentle, certainly nervous, but with the next and the one after they came more hungrily and assertive, with you matching his pace breath for breath. Finally he pulled his mouth away, just for a moment as you caught your breath. You stood there eyes closed and panting. If a little late night drinking is all it would’ve taken to get your quiet, reserved Monroe like this, you would’ve brought him out here ages ago.

“One more?”, you huffed, not ready to exit the little, pleasurable interaction. Monroe growled deep in his throat, a sound you didn’t even know he could make, as euphoric shivers of want sent every last one of your nerves on fire.

Monroe leaned back in and nibbled on your lip. Funny, you never would’ve taken him for a tease. His teeth let you go and you waited for the final, proper kiss of the night… But it never came. Monroe growled again, but now with a _different_ quality to it that you couldn’t define. Before you could open your eyes and inquire what the matter was, your lip was taken by his teeth again, but instead of gentle nipping this was hard and piercing. You gasped, taken aback by the pain, hardly dulled even with the alcohol, and pushed Monroe off of you. Putting a finger to your sore lip, you pulled it away wet. _Blood._

“Woah there killer”, you looked up at Monroe, but froze at what you saw. While the creature before you looked like the man you knew, they couldn’t possibly be the same… _Right?_

Its face was sharp and dramatically angular, covered in wild, coarse hairs in all the places a regular, but extremely hairy man would have. Red eyes and long fangs glinted at you in the low light as the monster seemed fixated on the gush of blood from your lip as he approached a few steps closer at a lazy rate. Save for a complete blackout, all the alcohol in the world couldn’t have distorted your vision enough to see past _this._ The rough skin, the pointed ears, _the claws._ As soon as your booze addled mind completely registered what you were seeing, you shrieked a blood curdling scream.

The wolf-man stopped in his tracks and cocked his head making a low sound almost as though it were confused by your reaction. This happened without your notice however, as you shoved your way past him and took off into the darkness. You rounded a few corners, but miraculously decided this time it would be safer to flag a taxi then go wandering through any more wooded areas. Again. When one finally came, you hopped in reeking of booze and a little of sweat, before giving the driver your destination. 

You leaned back heavily against the seat, rubbing your aching forehead. _What was that back there?_ One moment you had been making out after a successful date with the current man of your dreams, when next thing you knew your were trapped in an alley with some kind of were-monster. 

Could it be tha-? No. No, that was crazy. But then… You had to be sure.

Once you were dropped off safely at your front door, you raced up to your library room. You shucked your heels, flipped on the lights, then dropped to a small, old looking chest on the floor. It took a few attempts, but you finally opened the padlock and retrieved your prize. With as much reverence as you could manage, you dusted off an ancient, beat up journal containing the scribbles and ravings of a mad man. 

_Your parents never spoke much of your Great Uncle Thomas, but what little they did tell you was quite the tale. Apparently, your Great Great Grandparents had been having trouble starting a family of their own, so they decided to adopt and eventually came home with Thomas. One day his parents had simply disappeared in a case that was never solved and he had no other known living relatives, leaving him in the care of the orphanage. Everyone said that he was such a wonderful young boy, which left the entire family bewildered when the ‘incident’ happened. This part was always the fuzziest when you tried to extrapolate information, but with a little extra digging on your own time, it seemed that one day, out of the blue, Thomas started claiming to see strange and terrifying creatures were only ordinary people were to be found. He even got so far as to raising a blade against some poor man and, long story short, he landed in an asylum on an insanity plea._

_He would spend the rest of his life in there, and during that time he penned the very journal you held._

The booklet was filled with all kinds of things. Fantastical drawings and paragraphs upon paragraphs of information seemingly related to each image. Your parents had wanted to just be rid of it, but being the bookkeeper you were, there was no way in hell you were about to let such a fascinating trifle be buried at a dump. Ever since, you kept it hidden safely away. 

You flipped through the yellowed pages, fast but gentle as you scanned for a familiar image. _There._ Your finger tapped a large sketch resembling the same creature that had taken the place of Monroe. The fur like hair, the fangs, the rough features... Everything was there. Before, you had always brushed these images off as a sick man’s delusions, but after having seen one for yourself… A chill ran down your spine causing you to steal a glance over our shoulder. Suddenly you felt very alone.

Growing more anxious, you read the entire page or so that had information on the creature as frantic musings began to fill your mind. Maybe, you too had come into the same sickness as your Great Uncle? The more you read, the more upset you seemed to be making yourself however. You clapped the journal shut and wiped a tear from the corner of your eye. Tucking the book away, you decided to head straight to your bed and clean yourself up later. 

Cuddled into your sheets, your dried your eyes for a final time. Basically the book had described some kind of take on your average werewolf, but in this version he referred to them as ‘Blutbad’. It was fairly rare that Great Uncle Thomas would name his creations, but the Blutbad entry seemed to be one of the more detailed ones. 

_There was no way this was real._ And yet, you’d seen it with your own eyes. Thomas might not have been so crazy after all… But, that would mean Monroe, sweet, smart, considerate Monroe, was a _monster._

You rolled over, hoping to settle in for the night but one question stuck out to you all night long… What would you do now?

\---

Things seemed to be going so well that night. How had he managed to get it so wrong? All Monroe could remember was making out with you in the alley way, a little crass yes, but hey you were both getting into it. Like, _really_ into it. Then… You ran off scared as hell leaving him confused and alone. 

He wanted to give chase so badly, and for just a second he made to do it, but all it took was a second for him to realize what had happened. It was then that Monroe understood why he felt so elated, so _primal_ over it all. The night was vivid, he could hear his heart pounding away, he swiped at his forehead, feeling feverish and then everything became clear. His hand felt coarse with an unusual amount of hair against skin that felt unusually rough.

Monroe jumped back into the darkness of the alley. He shook his head, returning to his human form. _He’d woged._ Right in front of you. 

The Blutbad took several deep breaths, sliding down the wall as panic took him. This was it. Finally, he’d found a woman whom he could get along just so damn well with, and he’d ruined it. At best you’d think he was some kind of freak, and at worst you’d completely lost your mind and he’d ruined your life forever. A hot, angry tear escaped his eye as he gripped his hair in his hands. 

After all this time, he’d always thought that if anything from his second life were to ruin his fragile relationship with you, it would be his mysterious and unexplained excursions with Nick, not one of his own simple, _foolish_ mistakes… 

Monroe sat slumped against the wall for a while as his tears of frustration turned to bitter disappointment. 

Once he’d collected himself enough to be seen in public, Monroe stood and wandered back through the streets alone. Despite everything, he found himself still feeling worried for you, at least wanting to know if you had made it home alright. It was probably a stupid idea from the start, but Monroe decided to take a quick detour past your home before never seeing it again.

The light of the very top floor was on, and he could smell the scent trail of your perfume leading back up to the front porch, confirming it was indeed you in there. Monroe stole a glance at the front door, wanting nothing more then to give it a knock and just say something, _anything_ to try and convince you it was all a mistake or that you’d imagined things. He sighed deeply, then walked away. _Who was he kidding?_ This whole relationship had been so selfish of him.

You were a human and he was a wesen, and a Blutbad at that. Sure it made a great Romeo and Juliet story on paper, but in practice… Well look at what had happened just tonight. Things got a little hot and heavy and he lost it, without even noticing too! Monroe looked up at the red stained glass wolf on his front door sadly. He dug out his keys and let himself inside. Even after all his work towards keeping his wesen subdued, and he was _still_ too dangerous for humans.

Monroe grabbed some water, then flopped on his couch, nursing a growing headache. He looked around at the big, empty house, then took a sip. _All he needed was for Nick to burst in here and drag him out for a case._ Was this just going to be his life? He’d spent the first half alone by choice to keep his ‘big bad’ side in check, and now he’d spend the rest of it alone too because he was chummy with a Grimm, of all people, too much so for any wesen girls to want to even get close to him. Then, just when he’d thought the unthinkable, that maybe he could make things work with a human, he screws that up too.

The Blutbad shot back the rest of his water, partially wishing it was something far stronger. He rocked forward to put the glass down, but decided getting up was too much work for right now. Monroe took off his shirts and turned to lay down on the couch. Before chucking them to the floor, he tentatively held them close for a quick smell check. 

He could still smell the scent of your perfume from all the times you’d been on his chest tonight.

For a moment, he contemplated throwing them to the ground anyway, but… Monroe held the garment close enough to smell as he tried to fall asleep. A big part of him said this was wrong, probably a little creepy even, but this was the last piece of you he would ever have, so maybe just this once...

\---

You wandered back into your favorite bookstore, trying but failing for the thousandth time to forget the events from weeks ago. Ever since that night you’d done everything in your power to avoid the streets, especially at night, just til you could get your thoughts straight on how to deal with him. It all worked to plan though, as you hadn’t seen Monroe ever since. Well, not during your waking hours at least. You couldn’t even begin to count the number of nights you’d woken up in a cold sweat from the nightmares since. 

It started the same each time; You’re with Monroe as you remembered him and everything is perfectly serine, then before you realize it, in only a way that makes sense in the dream world, things go wrong at the drop of a hat. Monroe is gone and out of the corner of your eyes, all you see is that… _thing_ that took his place. Sometimes chasing you, always gaining ground no matter how hard your run. Sometimes just stalking you, toying with you as you try to lose it.

You shudder, pulled out of your thoughts as you find your feet have taken you to the comforting familiarity of your favorite section. _Maybe it’s time to just forget it, once and for all._ You pick up a book to inspect, smiling at this train of thought. The smell of old pages wafts through to your nose as you sigh contentedly. Deciding this is the one, you look up for a spot at the tables to flip through it. Then you spot _him._ No…

Dark, burnt umber eyes lock onto yours from across the room. You drop your book to the ground while Monroe, as if in slow motion, rises to his full, terrifying height. Funny how that same height use to make you feel so safe and protected instead of just… _small._ With not a moment to lose, you turned on your heel and raced out of the store. You turned a corner, then another, and finally ducked into an alley hoping to have lost him, but found yourself bouncing, almost comically, off his sturdy body.

Monroe grabbed your upper arms gently, but firmly, pleading with words you were too stunned to hear. You looked over your shoulder, then back in front to him, as if that would explain to you how he’d somehow managed to get in front so quickly. 

“Did you hear what I just said? Please, just let me exp-”

“Let me _go_ ”, you cut him off, wrenching your body this way and that, only finding freedom once he let you.

“There, now- _Wait!_ Please, I wanted to tell you, I just coul-... I didn’t know how to explain...”

You backed up a few safe steps away. “Tell me what?”, you swiped at a hot tear threatening to escape down your cheek, “Have you been following me all this time? _Huh?_ ” Monroe stood silently, allowing himself to absorb your angry lecture. “Explain _what_ Monroe? That you’re not who you pretend to be?”

He got defensive, “I’m not _pretending_ to be anything!”, He splayed out his hands, trying to reason with you.

But you shouted over him, “That you’re a _monster?_ ”

And with that, for all his sensitive nature, for all the time you’d known him, Monroe looked truly and utterly hurt. His hands dropped slowly, as the harsh features of his long face fell. He didn’t need to say a word, all the pain and betrayal was written in those warm, brown eyes. 

Almost as soon as the words left your mouth, you regretted having uttered them. 

Even after all the fear and confusion you’d experienced that night behind the bar, nothing could take away your memories of him from before. Sure, you know knew that he was _something_ else, but… a _monster?_

Never.

“Monroe, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t ha-”

“No”, Monroe cut you off, silencing you immediately, “No, you’re right. I am a monster, and I should never have let things get so far between us. _I’m_ the one who’s sorry. I don’t even know what I’m doing here...” Monroe looked away sadly, refusing to meet your eyes. You wanted to retort, but he beat you to it. The big man looked at you one more time, “I guess I just hopped, well- It doesn’t matter”. Monroe made to slip by you, as his words swirled in your head.

 _What were you doing?_ Ever since you’d left him that night, you couldn’t shake him from your mind, not without knowing the truth first, and you knew it. After all this time trying to avoid him, now here he was, prepared to tell you everything even. You couldn’t possibly let him go, not after all this… “You’re wrong”, you whipped around in time to see Monroe stop in his tracks, at least willing to hear you out. “And so was I. It’s jus- It’s not your fault, you’re just… a Blutbad? Right?” The word tumbled shakily out of your mouth.

Monroe turned on a dime, eyes wide with disbelief. He approached a few steps closer, then dropped his voice to a whisper, “Where did you hear that word? _How_ did you hear that word?”. Before you could react, he leaned down to look you dead in the eye, squinting slightly, “But…? No, you’re not even a Grimm” He withdrew back to his regular height, glowering down at you for an answer.

It took you a moment to recover, “Well, I- I don’t know, I read it in a book”

“ _You have the books?_ ”, Monroe dropped his voice even more, growing a little jumpy. He paced left and right, hands plastered against his forehead. You assured him that it was actually only _one_ book, and even then it was more of a notebook really, but Monroe didn’t seem to care, “My God, we have to tell Nick… _You_ gotta tell Nick. I mean, between you and me he needs all the help he can get”

You put your hands up, miming a slowing motion, “What are you _talking_ about? Monroe, it’s just a little journal written by my crazy relative! I’m just trying to figure things out between us, what does Nick have to do with _any_ of this? What even _is_ ‘this’?”

Monroe paused for a moment, just now seeming to understand that you truly had no idea what was going on. “Alright… Look, I know you’re probably really freaked out right now and there’s a lot you don’t understand, but I promise can explain everything. Just, not here ok?”, he looked around for any eavesdroppers, then leaned in close, “Can you show me the book? Everything will make more sense if I can just show you”

You stood for a moment, hesitating. How did you even know you could trust him? After all, you’d spent so much time avoiding him for a reason… But then again, you’d admitted yourself that you had been wrong, and really, were you ever going to get a better chance to finally figure out that journal? Not to mention an opportunity to maybe patch things up with Monroe.

“Alright”


	3. Chapter 3

“Here, like I said, nothing too interesting”, you tenitavely handed Monroe the old journal. He turned it over in his hands and flipped through a few pages before handing it off to Nick with an impressed visage.

Along the way to your small house, you couldn’t hold back your curiosity about Monroe and his world. While he did his best to explain, he insisted on waiting until the Detective could accompany the two of you. With the journal and Nick both finally in the same room, you asked the question that had been weighing on you the most, “So, _now_ will you tell me what all this ‘Grimm’ stuff is?”

Nick and Monroe exchanged glances, with the former inclining his head in your direction before pouring over the yellowed pages again. Monroe made a face, but did his best to explain the Grimm and wesen world to you, with the occasional input from Nick. “Anyway, all this to say, it sounds like your Great Uncle whoever was a Grimm”

“Yeah, an _unfortunate_ one”, Nick chimed in, handing you back the journal. “So, do you have any plans for that thing?”

You recoiled slightly, at first not sure you’d heard him correctly, but more so not willing to give up such a unique keepsake.The Detective put out a hand in a calming gesture, “Hey, hold on-”. He glanced at Monroe, hoping for some support in bargaining with you, but was met with only a confused shrug, “Look, no one is going to make you hand it over, but any Grimm book has got to be useful. All I’m asking is if maybe, there’s some kind of compensation we could give you?”

“Woah woah woah, who’s we?”, Monroe interjected defensively. Nick gave him a pointedly irritated look, but said nothing.

You looked from one man to the other, suddenly reevaluating the wisdom of letting one strange and one estranged, men into your house, with all your things. “I don’t know, I mean it’s a family heirloom… Besides, I hardly know you!”, you moved to return the journal to its proper home all while trying to appeal to the man’s sense of reason.

Nick made a defeated sigh and rubbed his face accordingly, but nodded in agreement to your statement. Monroe scratched the back of his neck, wanting to help but not sure how. He looked up at your tall shelf, taking in all the several rows of books. On the top few shelves, safely out of grabbing range, were neat rows of very thick, leather bound books. It was nearly impossible to tell what they contained but one thing was for certain: They were old, and they were valuable.

While you were turned and depositing the journal, Monroe nudged his friend and indicated the top shelves of books. Nick made a confused gesture, to which Monroe responded with an eye roll before carrying out his plan alone, “So, what’s with those old books? I mean, do you ever read those?”, he laughed, playing it off like light conversation.

You turned to see what he was referring to before responding, “Oh those? Of course! They’re mostly just antique novels or outdated manuscripts, but some of my favorite ones are they old legends and occult mysteries. Why?”

“Really? I mean, they just seem to be in such great condition! I guess I just never realized how _much_ you like to read”, he elbowed Nick gently to get his attention, “Can you actually remember all that stuff?”

Nick stood looking just as confused as ever, but you didn’t notice and laughed politely at the question, “Yes, actually! I don’t know, I guess I just love old, weird stuff but, I’m actually pretty good at retaining information, _especially_ if I’ve had time to read it over once or twice”, you smiled brightly, ignoring the oddity of the questions in favor of being able to brag a little over your collection and skills.

“Well-”, Monroe gave Nick a triumphant glance, as realisation slowly dawned on him, “I know a place with lots of old books like that”

“ _The trailer?_ Monroe, you can’t be serious”, Nick cut in, pulling the Blutbad slightly aside and dropping his voice, “What we do is too dangerous for someone like her”

Monroe pulled away, taking a few steps towards you, “Oh, come on Nick! Think about it, how cool would it be to just have someone look over the books _for_ you… Besides, it’s not like she would be in any _real_ danger, she’d just be memorizing information and relaying it back to you when you need it!”. He turned to take a few steps back towards his friends, as you seemed fairly on board with the proposition, even if for no other reason then having the chance at some new, old tomes.

“It would be helpful in a pinch”, he continued, “After all, I don’t know everything and if we bring her on you wouldn’t need to _just_ rely on me all the time”

Nick paced a little, giving deep thought to the proposition. Sure, everything Monroe had said was true enough, but what you had said could go both ways just as easily. Who were you to him anyway? Just because Monroe had been on a few dates with you didn’t necessarily mean you were automatically trustworthy, especially when it came to handling his family legacy. And really, was one little journal, written in an asylum over nearly a hundred years ago, really worth all this? 

To Monroe’s dismay, Nick gave voice to his sound points, disappointing you a little as well.

“Alright man, I get it, but… You know she wouldn’t have to be in there alone right?”, The Blutbad countered, as though his statement had been implied all along. The Detective was silent for a moment, replying with a disgruntled sigh. He glanced over to see you anxiously awaiting his verbal response.

“Fine. But if she’s there, we’re there. At all times, no exceptions. Deal?”, you and Monroe readily agreed. “Bring the journal, and anything else you have by this guy. Now’s as good a time as any to put you to the test, I guess”. Nick rubbed the back of his neck, still unsure about this decision, but turned to leave without saying more. Monroe followed, first throwing you a glance of encouragement mixed with a little bit of self satisfaction, before catching up to his friend and reassuring him.

For a moment you stood frozen in the dusty room, only letting your excitement burst forth after you’d heard your front door swing closed. You were still a little wary of Nick, but despite your misgivings from before, you trusted Monroe, but moreover you were eager to learn about this new world the two of them lived in. Thoughts racing, you hurried to collect the journal and a few letters and paper scraps that your Great Uncle had also penned before catching up to the other two.

\---

The very notion that monsters and fairytales were real still seemed too wild to believe. Even with your experience of witnessing Monroe woge a week or two back fresh in your mind, that was just one case… Surely there was no way the world held more creatures and secrets then even your decidedly not-so-insane Grimm relative had documented, of that your felt quite sure. That was, until the metalic door of Nick’s trailer clanged open and your entire world changed.

Nick mumbled something of a welcome followed curtly by a dictation of all the valuable, irreplaceable history in these walls, but you felt as though you couldn’t even hear him. 

As soon as you set foot in the trailer, the musky scent of books and seemingly about a hundred other ancient but powerful aromas nearly knocked you back. The space was small, made smaller still by the sheer amount of _stuff_ packed inside, and yet there was an undeniable sense of home and refuge, as if these cheap tin walls could hold off an entire army of the very worst wessen from Thomas’ journal. As if under a spell, you set down your own family heirlooms in favor of reverently examining what Nick had graciously allowed you to come witness.

Thankfully, Nick had become distracted enough by the addition of the letters and loose pages you’d set down to stop spouting off rules and commandments as you explored a little on your own. You opened a few drawers, viewing but deciding not to touch, various collections of herbs and small tools as the other two men leafed through the new material you’d brought. 

Nick carded through some loose sheets of paper, stopping rather abruptly after coming across a wesen he didn’t seem to recall. He tilted the page in Monroe’s direction offering an inquisitive expression, to which his friend seemed to struggle to come up with any information on the depicted being. The odd handful of pages containing completely new creatures wasn’t too much of a find, but the Grimm took solace in the knowledge that at least he would be getting _something_ useful out of this deal.

You opened a large cabinet, struggling a little with the heavy doors, until finally they swung open, revealing a small armory of medieval looking weapons. Nick hustled over in just a few long strides, closing the panels abruptly, “Let’s not mess with those, ok?”. You were about to fire back that you were fairly certain in your ability to handle yourself in front of a simple weapons display, when Nick’s phone went off in the tiny room, giving everyone a small scare. He answered, had a brief but serious sounding back and forth with whomever was on the other line, and then hung up unceremoniously.

“That was the precinct, a case came up”, Nick looked from you to Monroe and ran a hand through his hair, “Well come on, we’ll have to do this later”, he made an ushering gesture towards the door.

“Well hold on, what if this is wesen related? You’d have to come back here anyway, why don’t you let us stay and we can at least get a head start on all this book studying stuff”

Nick hesitated, clearly caught between distrust in leaving the trailer in the hands of others and the urgency of seeing to his duties at the precinct. 

“Nick, come on”, Monroe took on a confident tone and did his best to assuage his friend’s worries, “I can handle this”

Nick looked back over to you with a conflicted glance, before hurrying to gather his things and head out, “If anything happens to this place…”

“Yeah yeah, you’ll go all Grimm mode on me, just go find out what we’re dealing with ok?”

The detective gave his head a gentle shake, “Try to”, he mumbled, hurrying out the door.

You and Monroe waited until you could hear Nick drive off, before moving a muscle. Monroe clapped his hands together, and gave the room a once over with a tight lipped smile before settling his line of sight on you, “You know, I swear he’s not always like that”. You smiled at his attempt to lift the mood, even offering a sort chuckle.

“So, I guess we should look at some of those books?”, you looked around for a moment, before picking out a stack of rather large and ancient looking tomes across the room. Monroe grimaced and shrugged, throwing the books a nonchalant glance. 

He turned back to you with a more playful expression instead, “Or… We could totally check out that cabinet”

For just a moment, you considered if he was serious, but returned his smug smirk in almost no time at all. Monroe bounded up and over to you and the cabinet, while you put your efforts into reopening the doors. 

The two of your spent your time like that for hours. Monroe would pull out something interesting from somewhere in the various drawers and shelves of the trailer and take the opportunity to show off his impressive knowledge of all things Grimm and wesen. All the while, you took a few notes for yourself and asked what felt like endless questions. At first you considered holding the majority of them back a little, in favor of not agitating the Blutbad, but Monroe’s patience seemed to match your curiosity stride for stride. 

After all, explaining things to Nick was one thing, seeing as how he was somewhat obliged to do so for the safety of both his friend and the city, but with you, things were… _different._ It was more then the fact that you weren’t a Grimm, or that these were all sort of just fun facts he could share for the sake of it, you’re whole demeanor was different then what he’d gone through with Nick. You _wanted_ to learn about him and his world, and not out of fear or obligation either, leaving Monroe with a feeling of being appreciated for all his knowledge, rather then just another resource to be called on when needed and ignored when not.

And you… _You could feel it._

Ever since you and Monroe had sort of fallen apart, you’d nearly forgotten what made you love him so much in the first place. Being here, seeing the pride, excitement, and confidence in the way he talked and gestured all while you were immersed in his element alongside him, rekindled those feelings stronger than ever. Before when you saw him woge, you were so afraid of what he really was, that you couldn’t see how wrong about it all you were. 

_This_ was the real Monroe. Brave and strong, as you heard all his stories of the monstrous wesen he’d faced with Nick. Smart and proud, as he easily provided information and history to nearly everything you could point to, including his own people and other wesen. But above all kind, funny, and patient as he answered your torrent of questions in full, or with little quips that made the hours meld together as if the rest of the world had ceased to exist. 

\---

When Nick returned the following morning, you and Monroe had long ago fallen asleep amidst the piles of books, snoozing peacefully. The Detective took a quick survey of the room and found no trace of the shenanigans the two of you had gotten down to the previous night. Relieved to see his family’s life works still in one piece, he gently fished out a book from the pile you were sleeping on and did some research alone.

After a little while, Monroe awoke with a start, shaking the table just enough to cause you to wake up as well.

“Late night?”, Nick hardly looked up from the book he was flipping through.

Monroe rubbed hard at his face, “Yeah, actually. What about you, find anything?”

“Yep, wesen”

No sooner had he said it then you began reaching for the closest book. As Nick related what you were to be looking for, he caught your eye before you got to work. He said nothing, but smiled gently and gave one, slow nod. There was something different in his gaze this time that you couldn’t define. Whatever it was, you felt like you’d passed his little test, or at least gotten through the first hurdle or so. 

With your extra eyes and mind on the job, the case found itself closed a little quicker, earning more of Nick’s trust and Monroe’s respect, and things followed that cycle for quite some time.

Slowly but surely, you rebuild what you had with Monroe, mostly thanks to the study dates he’d take you on in the trailer. As a result, your reading to memorization skills came in handy as you became something of a walking catalog of nearly all things Grimm and wesen, practically exceeding Monroe himself. 

Ever since the night behind the bar, you’d only seen Monroe woge a couple more times, almost all of which were out in fights alongside Nick. You never really fought any wesen, but that didn’t mean danger never snuck up on the three of you. Of those few times that it did, there was a particular night you’d remember till the day you died… 

\---

There had been a series of gruesome murders going on, a case assigned to Portland’s finest Nick, Hank, and by default, you and Monroe. A little digging later and you all could confirm it, a rouge Hundjager, in it for nothing more then the thrill of the kill. It was the dead of night when it happened. Nick and Hank had followed what they could make of a trail to an abandoned site. Dark, remote, and a perfect place to search for further leads.

Monroe must have told you for the thousandth time that night to head home if for no other reason then his own peace of mind that you’d be somewhere safe. But of course, your stubborn nature wouldn’t let you back out now, not when you were so close. Only… Too close, it seemed. 

One minute you’re examining a clump of fur, next your crushed under the weight of a fully grown man. You crossed your arms protectively over yourself, screaming and thrashing wildly, but there was only so much you could do against the flurry of claws and impossibly powerful muscles. It was only after your forearms had been relieved of whole chunks of skin and muscle, that the scent of your own pooling blood became too much. A haunting darkness crept in around the edges of your vision. Your arms failed you, falling to your sides, and just as your throat and chest had become enticingly exposed, you braced for the final, bone crushing bite.

But it never came.

A few yards away, and closing with inhuman speed, Monroe screamed your name as if the mere word itself had any chance of saving you. Even if you could’ve seen clearly, you still would’ve hardly been able to make out the blur and tangle of shadows as the two wesen fought fang and claw, a distorted chorus of guttural, animalistic noises just a ways away from your palloring body. 

You gave it your all, but it wasn’t enough. Several shots echoed as if from somewhere underwater, while your eyes fell shut, no longer responding to your will.

The last thing you felt was Monroe’s freezing grip on your numb body, a few wet, icy drops on your skin juxtaposed by the steam of his breath as he did his best to try and keep you with him, yet sounding a thousand miles away. 

Then, nothing.

\---

You blinked your eyes open, nearly in time with the soothing hum of the fluorescent light above you. To your left was the steady beeping of a heart monitor accompanied by the silent drip of an IV, all converging in various places along your bandage wrapped arm. You groaned, blinking a few more times as you turned to investigate the warm sensation enveloping your right. There beside you, was the only person in the world you wanted to see most.

Monroe flinched awake, rising slightly as you flexed your hand which currently lay safe, enveloped by his. The edges of his eyes were bloodshot and he looked a little more scruffy then usual, but not even undoubted _days_ worth of exhaustion could keep his excitement down. 

“Hey! Hey…”

He didn’t say much more, but if he was anywhere near as surprised to find you alive and awake as you yourself were, you could give him a pass. You tried to return the greeting, as it was, but could only manage a strangled croak. Monroe shushed you, leaning down to meet your forehead, nosing it gently. He kissed it, then promised to return in just a moment, a promise he kept with the Doctor in tow.

It took about a week before you were released from the hospital, but Monroe hardly left your side. After several blood transfusions and skin grafts to your arms, the Doctors kept you for monitoring until finally sending you home with plenty of pain medicine and physical therapy appointments lined up. Despite all this, no one kept your spirits up like he did. 

Of course Nick and Hank came by when they could, giving you a much appreciated complete story when they did. In an active effort to not upset you, they gave the long and short of it, only going into detail about Monroe's act of heroism. Turns out, they all considered you quite the hero yourself though. Without your sharp mind to have helped them get there in the first place, no one could say how many more lives would’ve been taken before they finally caught that monster.

You winced a little at that particular word. It wasn’t _so_ long ago that you had tried to use that very same word against Monroe. You’d regretted it then, nearly as soon as you had said it, and you sure as hell regretted it now, as he remained glued to your bedside after having saved your life. 

Once you were finally released, Monroe came by to check on you, doing what he could to help you out nearly every day. Not that you were complaining. It wasn’t really how you wanted everything to go, but ever since the whole woge behind the bar thing, and especially after such a very real and very close brush with death, the two of your realized now more than ever what you wanted, and somewhere in the mess of all the aftermath things became official between you two. Monroe kept up the consistency of his visits for weeks, and it wasn’t until you were just about completely back on your feet again that things took a step up.

“You’re over here so much, you might as well move in”, you laughed at your own off hand comment as Monroe helped you put away some dishes. He took a moment to process what you said, before turning to you tentatively.

“Would you like to?”

This time you froze, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. 

“Well, that is, _you_ move in with _me_ I mean. It’s not that I don’t like your place! I just think, maybe, it’s a little too small for th-”

With as much strength as you could muster, you pulled the scruffy man down into a kiss, cutting off the nervous ramble. When you finally pulled away, Monroe stood mouth slightly agape. 

“So, is that a yes?”

You nodded, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you laughed.

\---

Monroe dropped a stack of boxes three high onto the ground with a wall shaking thud. “Phew, you’ve got a _lot_ of books”, he rolled his shoulders but hardly seemed to break a sweat. You sauntered over and casually flipped open the lid of the top box to see that it was indeed filled with books. You turned back to him with a loving smile. Even after all this time, you were still in awe of his Blutbad strength.

“Getting tired?”, you teased, changing gears as you rubbed his upper arm gently.

He growled playfully, pulling you flush against his body by your waist, “Nah, not yet at least” Monroe made a few more low, gravely noises, nipping at your ear while you laughed and resisted gently against the tickling sensation. Unable to keep up his own provocative mood, the Blutbad found himself caught up in your infectious joy. “Will you stop? You’re going to make me woge”, Monroe laughed with you, as you continued to struggle playfully.

“ _Me?_ Come on, we have work to do”, you laughed lightly, pulling him down by the shirt collar and planting a light kiss on his coarse lips.

“ _We_ aren’t doing anything, _you_ are going to go back to unpacking the light stuff. Just uh, in a minute…”, Monroe pulled you back in to steal a second one, as you relented to revel just a bit longer in the intimate moment.

Suddenly, the door banged open, causing you to jump. The Detective burst into the foyer, a stringent look on his face. “Hey Monroe, we’ve got a ca-”

Monroe whipped his head around, fixing Nick with an incredulous glare, “Really man?”

Nick cleared his throat and with at least some remaining shred of politeness, averted his gaze, “I’ll just, wait outside…”. He backed out of the doorway, fully aware of the awkwardness he’d created.

Monroe turned back to you, and pulled you in for a tight hug, swaying with you gently. “A human and a Blutbad can get together, and yet Nick Burkhardt can’t learn to knock. Am I going crazy?”

You smiled, then left a gentle kiss on his scruffy jaw, “I guess the world can only handle one radical change at a time”

Monroe replied with a soft chuckle, “I guess so”. He kissed you once more for luck, made it halfway out the doorway, then froze to look back at you.

“You better come back in one piece!”, you called, rubbing some warmth back into your scarred forearms, never letting you forget just how dangerous his world was. Monroe smiled that same confident, smug smirk that drew you in all those months ago, back to when you very first met him.

“Always”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I just wanted to leave a thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed! I honestly wasn't even going to post this, but I was pleasantly surprised to get as much interaction from you all as I did :D


End file.
